John and Sherlock
by Jason Layton
Summary: AU, John is the lost King of Lyonesse, Sherlock is the youngest son of Yseult of Ireland. When John is sent to collect his Aunt Molly of Kernow's bride, they both accidentally consume a love potion created by the great Merlin, and they become soul mates.
1. Chapter 1

**My book of choice this week has been Iseult by Rosalind Miles. To be honest not exactly my usual thing, but it was in a box of books sent to me while I was in hospital. This is what happens when your friends are a mixture of historians and radical feminists.**

**This is my excuse and I'm sticking to it!**

**Oh and btw this is TOTALLY historically inaccurate!**

**I own nothing!**

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><p>Tintagel was a dusty, stinking pile John thought as he walked its packed earth market. The people all had the same, grey dull faces, which reflected the bleak walls of the fortress, and the wild Kernow Coast. He had been back in Kernow for three weeks, three lonely and desperate week's, he had considered ending his life, throwing himself from the high battlements and ending the existence that had been willed upon him by a lucky spear thrust far away in Amorica. That thrust had been enough to send the lost king of Lyonesse reeling from the battlefield, carried wounded by his warband to the first ship they could find, he awoke on the way to Kernow.<p>

His Aunt Molly was the infamous ruler of the country, his mother Blancheflour was her youngest sister, and when Blancheflour and her husband Rivalen were killed, and John and his sister were driven from Lyonesse, Molly took them both in. Molly's third husband had taken the youthful John under his wing, and squired him, whereas Harriet had been taken into the wardship of Arthur's dark half-sister Morgana-Le-Fey. John had seen little of her since childhood, but had been told that since Morgana's fall Harriet had been taken to join Merlin's own band of half-mad creatures on Avalon's tor.

Soon after John had been knighted by his Aunt, under the watchful gaze of her sixth husband, he had left Tintagel for Arthur's new formed court at Camelot. Six years of fighting the Franks in Armorica had made him battle hard, and cynical. It had also gained him fame and popularity, no longer the infant lost king of Lyonesse, but one of Arthur's Knights a Warlord in his prime. His men were loyal to him, and even in the fortress of Tintagel, where their limping commander went they followed. So when a hot and sweating man, in a short tunic and woollen hose ran towards him through the market, their swords were drawn and the man was held close.

"John?" the man asked "It's Mike! Mike of Stamford"

John waved his hand and the swords vanished, the warriors disappearing back into the crowd.

"How are you? I've not seen you for years; I thought you were in Amorica with Arthur's knights. What happened?"

John gestured at his bound leg, "spear thrust" he grunted.

They went and sat with their backs leant against a tavern wall.

"So what are you doing, staying in Tintagel till you can find a quest?"

"I can't quest like this?" John replied, motioning his leg with a now trembling hand.

"But you couldn't bear to be anywhere else?" mike asked "that's not the John, I knew?"

"Yeah, well I'm not the John you knew" the warlord snapped.

"Could you go and stay with Harry?" Mike asked, but just received a look for his pains.

"What I really need is a simple fetch and carry job" John sighed, "but who'd employ me for that?"

Mike looked at him then laughed, "strange that, I was only having this conversation earlier."

"Go on then" John pressed "who wants an ex-knight to fetch and carry for them?"

"You're Aunt!"

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><p>It was simple enough on the face of it, John would travel from Tintagel to CaerLizord near Dubh Llin, to collect Molly of Kernow's, twelfth husband. The lad was the brother of the client king of Ireland, Mycroft, and son of the formidable Queen Yseult of Ireland. John and his men would travel with treasure from Molly for her new bride, and hopefully return with the boy's dowry to fill Kernow's coffers and provide much needed gold for them.<p>

John was not a great sailor, had had arrived at the black pool, sick and green. Shaking and ill they had been shown to CaerLizord's guest hall, to sleep the night before paying homage to Mycroft and Yseult the next morning. John's dreams were haunted by the wolfwoods of Armorica, the snow that lay in the clearings stained with blood, and the cold terror of the pitch evenings. Sweating and groaning he awoke with a start as the Frankish spear came towards him. He sat up and adjusted his wolf-pelt blanket around him, the fire and dropped down to nothing, mainly because the young girl, who minded it, was being thoroughly roasted by a number of John's men. Looking past the sweating rutting humanity, John's eyes were drawn to the south door of the hall, were a slim dark silhouette, which stood silent watching guard over the scene.

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><p><strong>Ok, so there is more obviously but I HAVE TO GO TO BED!<strong>

**Please review**

**I hope you like so far**

**Jas xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**So I'm well rested, been to the pet shop, been to the supermarket and fed the animals. Also I forgot to go to work, yippee! So on with our yarn!**

**Oh if you hadn't noticed I'm following SOP (roughly).**

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><p>At first light, John woke again, but this time from long standing habit. That dangerous moment, just before true dawn, when the world is bathed in half-light, was when a successful warrior awoke. This was the time of bright shadows, and misty shapes that could be an enemy army approaching, or just a trick of the eye. All around him he could hear the deep breathing of his men, while they slept. It was a comforting sound, a sound as close to home as John had heard from childhood, but somehow he felt totally detached. He was no longer fit, the chance of him standing in a shield wall ever again was slim to nothing, and he'd seen men like him before. He'd seen old Warlords reliving their past glories, whilst still living in the halls of younger knights who fed them out of sympathy. Many of them lived in Molly's hall, ex-lovers, and old Knights, whose beauty and usefulness was well passed, living the ghost of an existence. John breathed out heavily, ever alert, but wondering why.<p>

"Armorica or Bernicia?" A deep baritone begged in John's ear.

Years of harsh training meant that he didn't jump, to never show fear was one of the most important lessons young squires were taught. He was however surprised, was this a ghost calling in his ear? Otherwise how did this phantom reach him without alerting him?

"Armorica? I don't understand?" John started

"Come with me?" The tall man begged.

"Why should I follow you?" John asked, turning to looking at the man, he was tall and slim, the same phantom from the night before. "We don't know anything about each other, I don't know where we're going, and I don't even know your name?"

"I know you're a Lyonesse Warlord, back from Armorica, I know you have Kin in Avalon, but you won't go to Merlin's land when you're injured, either because you don't approve of magic or more likely you don't approve of their lifestyle. Oh and I know your injury isn't in your leg, that's just your head telling you to limp. That seems enough to be getting on with doesn't it?"

John just stared as the man straightened and turned towards the south door, as John felt himself standing as well, the man turned, his sharp features picked out in the early dawn light,

"Oh and the names Sherlock ap Holmes, and you're coming to the Baker's Tower." He said with a twirl and a wink.

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><p>John found himself following his Aunt's bride through the tiny passageways of CaerLizord, and to a large stone watchtower at the far side of the main complex. Climbing the steps in almost utter silence, John's mind was whirring.<p>

"Mistress Hudson?" Sherlock called

"Sherlock dear, are you back then?" An older lady came bustling out of a side door, as John and Sherlock entered a bright and wide Solar.

"Mistress Hudson, Sir John of Lyonesse" Sherlock introduced, "John this is Mistress Hudson my nurse".

"Lovely to meet you Sir John" the old lady said, appraising him, running a motherly hand across Sherlock's back. "I've been packing Sherlock, but you have so much…clutter, I don't know what we'll be allowed to take."

"Ask John, Mistress Hudson, he is to be our jailor, for the journey to Kernow."

John started to protest, but Mistress Hudson started quizzing him on ship size, and he felt his resolve falling away. Sherlock was staring out of the window, when John saw him stiffen slightly. Mistress Hudson had obviously sensed John's waning interest and addressed Sherlock again.

"Anyway Sherlock dear, what about these suicides, I thought that would be right up your street. Three of them and Palace Guard hasn't a clue!"

"Four, Mistress Hudson" Sherlock stated, "there's been a fourth!"

There was the sound of running of the steps outside the chamber, and suddenly a liveried man burst through the chamber door.

"Where?" Sherlock snapped

"The monastery garden, will you come?" The man asked hurriedly

"What's different, you wouldn't have come to find me if there wasn't something different with this one?"

"Well, you know how they never leave a note?"

Sherlock nodded

"Well this one did, will you come?"

"Who's the Queens examiner?" Sherlock demanded, frowning.

"Ander's son" The man shrugged, in an apology.

"Ander's son won't work with me" Sherlock pouted

"He won't be your assistant!"

"But I need an assistant!" Sherlock pouted.

"Will you come!" the man asked finally.

"Yes, but I'll follow you, I don't want to attract…attention."

The man bowed deeply, and ran back out down the stairs. John and Mistress Hudson, stood in silence, while his steps receded. However when the wooden door at the foot of the tower slammed shut, Sherlock became animated, and even performed a little dance.

"Four serial suicides, and now a note, Oh it Samhain!" He danced again. "Mistress Hudson I'm going out, might be late might need some food."

"What about the packing, dear?"

"It can wait" Sherlock's eyes then rested on John. "You're a warrior?"

John nodded

"You're just back from the wars?"

John nodded again

"Seen a lot of violent death?"

"Yes, lots, too much for a lifetime!" John shuddered.

"Want to see some more?"

"Oh Bel's name yes!"

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><p><strong>Okay What do you think of it so far?<strong>

**Thanks to Lanshannarra and Simallyher for your kind reviews.**

**I'm rather enjoying this!**

**Jas xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry about the delay, I wanted to add this to the fic, but had a hard time working out how. Anyway I have done this...**

**It's just a short one, you all know the words.**

**Jas xx**

"Okay so you have questions" Sherlock told John as they walked through the early morning streets

"yeah" John started "where are we going?"

"Crime scene" Sherlock shrugged "Next?"

"Who was that man? What do you do for him?"

"Lestrade the head of my brothers palace guard. What do you think?"

"I'd say private detective work..."

"But..."

"But the guard wouldn't go to a private detective, even one whose brother pay's their wages"

"I'm a consulting detective. The only one in the world. I invented the job."

"What does that mean?"

"It means when Lestrade is out of his depth — which is always — he consults me."

" I don't believe you, why would the guard consult the youngest child of the family?"

" When I came for you earlier I said "Armorica or Bernicia? You looked surprised."

"Yes. How _did_ you know?"

"I didn't know, I saw. The way you hold yourself, shows you are a warlord. And you arrived leading the Cornish delegation, so of Molly's kin. Obvious. Your face is badly weatherbeaten, you've been abroad but not for your health. The limp's really bad when you walk, but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly in your head. That suggests the original circumstances of the injury were probably traumatic, wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, abroad, Armorica or Bernicia?"

"You said I wouldn't go to Merlin"

"You've got a fictional limp, and then there's your brother." Sherlock ignored Johns quizical look. "You have an amulet around your neck with Merlin's sign scratched into it, but you're still limping, not healing yourself. It's a gift, then. Clearly a family member has given you this to keep you safe. Not a father, but I'll come to that, could be a cousin, but you're a war hero questing in Ireland. Unlikely you've got a close extended family, so brother it is. He gave the amulet to you, that says he wants you to stay safe, but you're looking for quest's in dangerous countries while injured and you're not going to your brother for help? That says you've got problems with him. Maybe you dislike his lifestyle, maybe you fear the magic that killed your family?"

"How can you possibly know about that?"

"Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Your bone structure, your blonde colouring, and your accent say it, Lyonesse. Warlord, rugged and hard, kin to Molly, family with Merlin's people, you are one of the lost family, the heir if I'm correct. There you go, you see? You were right."

"I was right? Right about what?"

"Lestrade wouldn't consult amateurs."

_John gasped "_That was amazing".

"You think so?"

"Of course it was. It was extraordinary. It was _quite_... extraordinary."

" That's not what people normally say."

" What do people normally say?"

"Piss off!"

**I will obviously update asap.**

**love to all**

**Jas xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**So this is the crime scene part 1, hopefully I'll put part 2 up later, but I have to go to the station in a few mins to pick Lucy up.**

**Firstly you should know that my description of the christian fellowship is coming straight from the Bernard Cornwell Arthurian trilogy and in no way suggests any feelings on my part.**

**Bernard Cornwell describes a pre-Augustine faith of lost souls, who base their lifestyle more on animalistic devotion than on the more usual understanding of a Christian bretheren.**

**so I own nothing, not Sherlock, not ADC and not Bernard Cornwell's Glastonbury Christian's.**

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><p>They arrived at the Monastery gardens to find the Christians milling around in confusion. John knew that the Irish allowed these missionaries room within the bigger settlements, but had never really experienced them before. Wild haired and clothed men and woman, bare footed and covered in mud and blood, stared at them as they passed. The Christian's emancipated frames, and cold blue skin contrasting sharply with the more ruddy appearance of the average serf. John was lost in his thoughts about these creatures when Sherlock started questioning him again.<p>

"Did I get anything wrong?"

"I am from Lyonesse, I don't get on with Harry, I'm wary of the magic, and their…lifestyle isn't healthy."

"Spot on then, didn't expect to get everything right"

"Harry, is short for Harriet"

"Harry's your sister?"

"What am I doing here?"

"Sister!"

"Seriously why am I here?"

"Sister, there's always something"

Before Sherlock could either answer or continue his self-flagellation they were interrupted by a particularly grisly example of the Christian fellowship. Her hair lay long and lank over her back and shoulders, what should have been a squat face was pinched and boney and transformed into a nasty sneer. Her ragged clothes and soiled skin made John's battle hardened face contort with revulsion.

"Hello Pagan" the creature spat.

"Hullo Sally" Sherlock greeted her

"Why are you here in my garden?"

"Lestrade called me Sally, there's been a murder."

"You're not supposed to be in my garden, your brother promised me!" the creature whined.

"Yes Sally, but as I am fairly sure you didn't kill some unfortunate just to lust after Ander's son, I think you'd better let me in."

"Well who's that?" Sally pointed a long claw like nail at John.

"A colleague of mine, Sir John"

"Are you a pagan as well?" she spat the word like an insult "pagans aren't allowed in my garden, Lord Mycroft promised!"

"Maybe I should just stay here" John said as calmly as possible, not wishing to step closer to Sally.

"Nonsense" Sherlock announced pushing passed Sally, "come along John."

"ANDER'S" Sally shrieked "The freak is here"

As Sally trotted off to worry some of Lestrade's guards a short lightly bearded young man walked towards them. His spotless blue tunic and hose, damp with the early morning dew, he scowled at Sherlock, and shielded from his view, the corpse lying close by on the monastery grass.

"Arrh, Son of Ander's, and here we are again." Sherlock started

"I thought you'd be off to your new lands by now?" the younger man spat.

"Not yet, not yet" Sherlock smirked.

"Well this crime lies within my jurisdiction, I don't want you disturbing the body before I get to investigate" he puffed out his chest. "Lestrade might be impressed with your magic tricks, and goodness knows my Father seems to be, but I'm not! The sooner you're out of the country the better for me."

"So tell me is your new bride still in confinement?" Sherlock asked

"Yes, you know the babies not born yet, why?"

"If you're going to fraternise with Sally, do have a wash afterwards, your ruining your father's good name."

"Whatever you're trying to imply!" The younger man started, but Sherlock had already pushed passed him to the body, leaving John to smell the heady aroma, of unwashed hag, wafting from the otherwise spotless investigator.

"I can't give you long" Lestrade called from the other side of the walled garden, as he walked towards john and Sherlock. "The Christians have put in a formal complaint to your brother."

"It won't take long" Sherlock huffed

"Who is this?" Lestrade asked, pointing to John.

"My appointed jailor" Sherlock shrugged, bending over the corpse.

"John" John introduced himself, and then stared at the young woman lying on the ground. She was petite and blond, her hair was neat and well groomed, her clothes a vivid shade of magenta. Clearly not a Christian John thought most likely a noble.

"She wasn't here last night, when the Christian Brother's went to prayer, they found her this morning, they don't know who she is, and no one in the guard recognises her either." Lestrade explained

"That's because she's from out of town" Sherlock sighed, "Is she one of yours John?" he asked

"Erm, no well I don't recognise her?" he confirmed

"Sorry how do you know she's from out of town?" Lestrade asked

"Mud splatters on her kirtle, only caused by travelling on horseback over rough terrain. The coathardie and kirtle separate during gallop and mud travels high into the gap between. She's been riding hard in the last 12 hours, so from out of town." Sherlock explained.

"So?" Lestrade asked

"What do you think John?" Sherlock asked, shocking Lestrade

"Me?" John was shocked as well

"Come on you've seen enough violent death, what do you think?

"Sherlock I asked you to come down, not him, tell me what you know?" Lestrade begged

"You asked me to come down because you need me, I need John's help, and you do still need me?" Sherlock asked Lestrade

"Bel's honour I do, but hurry up these Christians are freaking me out."

John bent down next to Sherlock, his leg protesting with every step. He looked at the girl's corpse; she looked peaceful, just asleep, apart from the vomit, spilled on her lips and the ground by her head.

"What am I supposed to be doing?" John whispered to Sherlock

"Helping me make a point!"

"I'm supposed to be taking you to Kernow"

"I know but this is more fun!"

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><p><strong>Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and read so far.<strong>

**TBC**

**Jas xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**I feel rubbish, utterly utterly rubbish so I'm rewriting this chapter.**

**I'm also watching SIP Pilot.**

**Oh I do love Sherlock in Jeans!**

**Oh I love John's face!**

**Oh I'm gonna puke! Everything tastes like ash! Even the horrid tasting Oral B professional can't take the taste away! I've even tried corsodyl yuck!**

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><p>"They have all been poisoned" Sherlock told John, in such and authorative tone, as to startle the warrior.<p>

"They? How do you know? Who by?" John asked in quick succession, while Sherlock gave him an appraising look.

"3 men and now 2 women, the poison is the same each time, you can see the vomit the smell, and themselves."

"Themselves?"

"Yes, all taken from their normal lives, from their gardens, the tavern, home, the castle kitchen and now this. Brought to places they have no reason to be, and they die. Look at the body John, there are no signs of struggle, no violence or compulsion. They take the poison voluntarily as far as we can see…."

"Sherlock, what have you got?" Lestrade interrupted.

"Like the others the victim is unimportant…"

"Sherlock!" Lestrade and John shout simultaneously, earning another withering glare.

"She's young from out of town a noble, her jewellery is still in place, so not a robbery, where is her luggage though? Where is her horse?"

Lestrade shrugged "we didn't find anything; I'll get the lads to have a search though."

"She'd have to have some luggage, running something important…but her dress is filthy so….she never made it to her destination, so she had it on her. It's gone….OH!"

Sherlock dashed towards the garden wall.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade shouted "What's going on?"

"Clever murderer, not been caught, we'd have to wait for a mistake."

"We've been waiting, we can't wait any longer, and people are dying?"

"We've done waiting Lestrade…look at her, we have a mistake"

"What mistake?"

"Pink"

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><p><strong>Whilst we are here I'll just continue on, but I've separated these chapters for affect.<strong>

**Jas xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**So here we go again.**

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><p>When John had gathered his composure, and stood up Sherlock had vanished.<p>

"Damn!" he swore

"He's gone" Sally came over to inform him "His run away like he always does"

"Damn!" John swore again

"I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't kill them all, vicious nasty pagan wizard" She slunk off into the garden, leaving John alone.

Without much else to do, he limped back to the great hall where his men were breaking their fast. He felt a fool, running after a man to a crime scene, early in the morning. No explanations given, no answers received. He was supposed to meet with the rest of the family, but he was now filthy and tired. What was all this nonsense with the palace guard anyway?

John thought the sooner they were on a ship back to Kernow the better, under Molly's strict control Sherlock would be allowed very little freedom and frankly John thought that might be for the best. He mind dwelled on the gold he would get for this job; enough to pay his men's way for a bit. Maybe if things went well with this new 'bride' Molly would give John a hall of his own, and he could send me out to get his gold for him.

Tired he ran his hands through his hair.

A note was placed in his lap, when he looked around no one was there.

_Come back to Baker's Tower. Urgently!_

_I need your help_

_It could be dangerous._

_S_

John stared at the note, the man was impossible, but he reasoned he should keep him out of trouble. He imagined Molly's wrath if anything happened to her young bride, shaking his head, and looking longingly at the ale and bred being passed around the hall. John stood; walking to his meagre belongings he grabbed and tied his sword belt, and wrapping his cloak about him. Walked through the compound once again, to the strange man's home.

As he climbed the stairs, he was surprised to hear nothing but silence. Soft bags and boxes littered the chamber as he entered and Sherlock lay amongst them with his eyes closed.

"You said you needed my help? I'm here; I'm guessing it's not the packing." He gestured at the room.

"Huh?"

"You sent me a note!"

"Oh yes, I need you to take me to the Physician."

"Why? Are you ill?" Oh Bel don't be ill John thought.

"No, I have to collect some evidence"

"Couldn't Mistress Hudson take you?"

"She's gone out, apparently I need new clothes"

"I've had to walk back here…..hang on that bag, its pink"

"Yes"

"It's belongs to the woman, the pink woman"

"How did you get this?"

"I looked" seeing the look in John's eyes, Sherlock sighed and started. "The woman had come to the Dubh Llin quickly for some pressing reason. When she got here, she had been killed before she'd even changed or tidied herself up. A young noble woman hadn't even announced herself to the guard but arrived late at night? A little odd don't you think? Also she had to be carrying something, something important. A package of some sort, but she was carrying it, so it would have to be concealed, effectively one would think she wasn't robbed, her jewellery was all intact, in fact before her demise her flight was going …well. However no package was with the body, the murderer, statistically a man, statistically not a noble, the other victims, taken from their serf homes during the day without anyone noticing, must be a serf s well, took that package, but why? Not to sell, otherwise he'd take the jewellery, so by mistake then… but he'd have to get rid of it, a serf with a package like that…but quickly because…"

"It would have to be pink" John supplied

"Exactly, well more magenta but you get the idea"

"So you found it?"

"A sewer outside the garden wasn't hard."

"What does this mean?"

"Will you come with me?"

"Where?"

"The physician!"

"Yes of course but…"

"I'll explain when we get there"

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><p><strong>I promise it makes sense in my head!<strong>

**TBC **

**Jas xx**


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